


Serpent's Kiss

by Cluegirl



Series: HP Drabbles [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble collection featuring Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. timeturner

"Would you do it?" he asked, stretched out gloriously naked in hues of gold before the fire, "If you could get back there, could get *then*, would you kill him, do you think?"

I took a drink, rolled brandy across my tongue. "What would you do?" I asked, luring him away from my secrets with the irresistible lure of talking about himself.

"I would," he said, surprising no one, "I would find the place of his birth, and a knife long enough to reach straight through, and I would go back to take his mother before he drew his first breath!"

"And you would change nothing," I said. His eyes fixed, sharp and cold on my face as he scowled. I filled my mouth, first with brandy, and then with his cock by way of soothing him. "If Potter had not been born, it would have been another child," I added after several fiery swallows had calmed his ire and heated his blood. "The times demanded it, after all."

He blinked, gave a breathless laugh, then took a handful of my hair. "Yes, I suppose," he mused, guiding my mouth back to his cock, "only I was *asking* about Riddle…"


	2. :  If the guilty man deserves to be beaten, the judge shall make him lie down and have him flogged in his presence with the number of lashes his crime deserves,

"Eight."

There is no screaming possible now. The lash commands his breathing with a kiss that is weighty as betrayal, sharp and dark as a kick in his ribs. Air escapes in a wheeze of contrition. Eight for bitter words, for sneers and snarls and disrespect behind a mask. Eight for cowardice.

"Nine."

The pain is solid, like a beating heart spread across his skin. His face has been wet for some time. Nine for fears, for doubts, for distrust. For lack of faith in the power that guides and protects. Nine for equivocation.

"Ten."

It is over, and the pain spreads out its wings to support him, winds him in arms of silk to lift him up to a cloudy bed. Close and cool, the smiling angel leans to taste of his tears and whisper.

"There there. Better now?"


	3. "Never again"

"I told you no."

Lucius continued unbuttoning. "And this should matter to me why?"

Snape's eyes narrow and spark. They might almost be compelling, if not half-hidden behind that black, greasy hair. "Just go away, Lucius. Tell Voldemort I was enraptured and swooning in bed when you left me."

Lucius stops, colour rising as the rejection begins to sink in. "You would have me deceive Our Lord?" Snape only gives him a disgusted look, and turns back to his cauldron. Lucius's cheeks heat further, and he surges forward.

Only to find Snape's wand at his bared throat, and a gleam in those cobra eyes. He swallows, wishes the Priapus potion would allow his erection to shrink as Snape shoves him hard against the desk and rips his trousers down. 

"I told you last time, you bastard," Snape breathes into his ear, smearing the scalding potion down his arse crack, "You will never fuck me again!"


	4. What would I do without you?

He hissed, trying not to shiver though his bones felt loose, and his muscles shock-solid. Rustling in his ears; great bats winging, scales on stone, retreating ghosts with blurry white faces. He was far more alive than they -- the still-coursing pain was proof; his liver growing back as the eagle's shadow retreated. 

"Severus." And there was his chain clinking again. He let go a laugh-turned-groan as he felt Lucius's magic gently take him up. His robes were wet. Damn. "You're a fool. You know that, don't you?" Clink, rattle. Shoes on terrazzo, or restless glass bottles. The press against his lips answered which. The potion worked at once. One of his, then.

Lucius's hand became soothing as he plucked a hair from Severus' cracked lips. "Honestly, I don't know why I bother," he pressed a kiss in its place.

"At least..." Severus returned the kiss weakly, "you're never... bored."


	5. Snape, Lucius, Japan, and a portkey.

"Just think, Severus," Lucius purred in his ear, running a hand over one nipple, "Plum wine in the thermal springs above Hokusai, with the new moon rising, and the mist clinging to the stones."

He snorted. "And the macaques stealing your wand, then arsing off up the mountainside. I remember." Lucius's hand stilled at the reminder, then resumed its coaxing.

"Tea at sunset then, served by those delightful little Onna-gata-"

"Oh, the one who gave you clamhydia, or the one who bit when you didn't tip him?" Severus rolled onto his back, grinning at the angry flush Lucius couldn't restrain. "Or did you mean the one who actually turned out to BE a girl under those robes?"

The blonde huffed, then seized the plum branch from the night table with a snarl. "Fine! I'll go alone then!" 

"Thank Merlin!" Snape sighed as Lucius disappeared.


	6. "For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds / Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."

Drawing Room laughter has a particularly toxic edge to it. One hardly fail to spot the flashing fangs and dripping venom beneath, which was why Severus eschewed most Death Eater socials. He preferred Lucius alone, in bed, silently, sweetly burning Severus to the ground with passion.

But the laughter, caught through the door, stayed him from his errand to listen.  
"-teeth like a rabid thestral, I swear, and his BREATH! I don't know how you do it, Lucius!" Avery. Pedantic little toadlicker.

Luc's chuckle curled wickedly around Severus's belly. Then the words turned it to acid. "Our Lord values him -- none of _you_ idiots could brew half so well!"

"So -- you close your eyes and think of England?" Narcissa's silver laugh chimed in. 

Severus fled, tear-blind, and cold to the core. Luc's reply followed like a vengeful ghost.

"That, and I brush my teeth for an hour afterward!


	7. Left to Bend

You think you're broken. I know better. I have seen your pliancy, my little shadow, I have seen you bend and twist and writhe your way out of corners too tight for a rat. You are willowy, dark, and severe, and you do not break.

I have tied you in knots myself just to test this, and proved it true. You bend; to my will, to his will, to that old fool in the castle. Damaged goods, you call yourself? I laugh at you every time -- as much because it infuriates you, as because I know the truth. You are not damaged, but nicely broken in. 

You have a long way left to bend before you shatter, my shadow.


	8. Shattered.

It is a crime. It is a travesty. It is art, magic, and drama.  
It is a transmutation so sudden and complete as to threaten the foundations of reality.   
Such eyes, such cold, commanding, impervious eyes should have no place for tears -- not when even their hatred blasts with arctic force.

But tears there are, pooling diamond bright against the cheeks (flushed and pink now, where they too had been so cool before) He kisses them away reverently, panting a little as his heart slows, and the sticky pool spreads between them.

Perhaps is is simply a physical law, and no alchemical miracle; After all, even a potions master knows what happens when one pours heat into cold. 

He kisses away a muffled sob, strokes the fluttering belly, and knows at last what it takes to shatter a Malfoy.


End file.
